


His saviour, his curse

by noemiluisa



Series: Ao no Exorcist [1]
Category: Ao no Exorcist | Blue Exorcist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-11-30 08:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11459943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noemiluisa/pseuds/noemiluisa
Summary: Shiro was born as a clone to Azazel in the gloomy Section 13. As the principal, Mephisto must take care of all his students, equally. Yet, he cannot help feeling intrigued by this special white-haired boy...Might become Yaoi in the next chapters.I do not own Ao no Exorcist, nor its characters.





	1. Unō

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted under another title, but then I changed it because the plot developed differently from what I had planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Ao no Exorcist nor any of its caracters.

A pair of fluorescent green eyes scanned the area taking in every detail of the bloody mess standing in front of him. Section thirteen had been a secret for the past 50 years, until a certain somebody had noticed that something unusual was going on in the basement of the Asylum. Of course, conservative members of the True Cross Order had not been pleased by the discovery, never mind that higher-ups were supporting Mephisto’s plan, they could not accept the collaboration between a demon and the Church. The role of exorcists is to _exorcise_ demons after all, not to make deals with them.  
   One couldn’t trust demons, their words were flavoured in deceit and sweet lies, a soothing lullaby for the hearts of the weaker human beings.

On the other hand, could one trust _humans_? Samael reflected as his boots met the floor at a slow pace, the rhythmic sound of his steps echoing through the tall walls. Had not humans betrayed him countless times already over the centuries?  
_Ungrateful creatures, that’s what they were,_ he thought as he stepped on a corpse without caring of altering his path. Knowledge had been his gift to them, knowledge on how to fight **his own kind**. Yet, they still came to stab him in the back.

Not that he minded humans killing a few demons here and there to keep Assiah clean. Far from that, he had enjoyed watching the play unravel on the stage he had so meticolously taken care to set up. A balanced fight, to keep the equilibrium between worlds. He looked at the decomposing flesh of defeated demons who had been serving under his command to protect the secrets buried underground. They were already rotting and dark fumes could be seen evaporating in the air. 

_Could you really blame humans for not trusting him?_ His lips curled up in a devilish grin. He was the mastermind behind all plots after all, without his father and older brother's nuisance, Assiah had become his amusement park where he had laid foundations for the perfect playground. Episodes like the one that had just happened were accidents simply to be expected while undertaking such grandiose task of manufacturing one’s own domains.

He had modelled the shape of his world to his tastes and manipulated more than one mind into believing that all he had done was for the sake of humanity. However, he had not bothered to brainwash lower level exorcists like the ones who had just perished at his minions’ hands.  
Thus, they had come to face him head-on, without realising the consequences of their actions. When it came to fights, they were ready to make sacrifices in order to purge the world of evil. And, who would be left in charge of cleansing this world once all of them had been wiped out?

 _Short-sighted,_ that was another word for describing his attackers. With such short lives, though, one could understand why they failed to see the greater picture and charged in without thinking.

As he continued his stroll, he examined the pained looks on the faces of the dead exorcists. A crack appeared on his façade and his eyes flared up as old memories resurfaced. Many times he had been cursed and persecuted and his flesh still wore the marks of his sufferings.  
Halting in his survey, he sat on a rock contemplating the spectacle before his eyes. Blood dripped from the walls forming countless thin red lines that converged into a pool on the uneven floor. He scratched his sensitive nose; the place stunk of rotten demons and corrupted souls. Nothing to improve his gloomy mood.

Even though it was to be expected, he was still annoyed at the thought that a bunch of humans had attempted at his life. As if they had any real reason to…Was he not doing all he could in order to preserve Assiah’s structure and safeguard the humans’ world? What if his methods were against their common morals? At the end of the day, it was them who had been crawling on the floor to ask for his help and had it not been for him, his brother would have already…

He snorted, interrupting his train of thoughts. Yes, he was truly annoyed, he did not enjoy having to put up with such petty games as the one those foolish humans had challenged him at. Even less, when they had no ground for their accusations.  
   The fact that now he had to _defend_ himself for having killed his assaulters was even more ridiculous. As if being a demon did not entitle you to living and enjoying the same pleasures as humans did.   

This whole mess had started when one of his men, a human working at the underground facilities, had gone out on a date with some recently transferred exorcist from Rome. She had tricked him into drinking without restraint and when he had been most vulnerable, she had extorted his secrets from him. Ghost legions of lower level Exorcists had showed up soon after that, infiltrating his ranks and ultimately unleashing an attack which had ended in a blood-bath. Samael himself had not even bothered to take part into the fight, a few of his familiars were enough to pest-control badly organised invasions like that. 

With a click of his tongue, he snapped his fingers and both the floor and walls around him were once again immaculate, no sign of the fight that had just happened. If the Vatican wanted to question him over this, disruption of evidence would not help his position, still he could not stand the stench nor allow it to sink deep into the stoned walls. Just as the smell of blood disappeared from the room, another pungent scent reached his nose. If possible, it was even worse than the one he had just gotten rid of. Eyes reduced to two glowing slits, he got down from the rock he was using as a seat and marched towards the source of his unhappiness. 

He did not have to walk far before his eyes caught sight of a thin human silhouette lying with their back against the wall. A puff of smoke rose from their open mouth, spread into the room and then crashed into the ceiling above dissolving into a myriad of invisible particles which caused the demon’s nose to itch.  
   Samael approached the young exorcist with a grim look, his murderous intent steadily growing as he got closer, step after step. His black nailed fingers clenched into fists as his furious eyes watched the teen slowly, and defiantly, take in another deep smoky breath before releasing a perfect grey circle in the air. The Demon King was already pissed because the intrusion and that simple act was pushing him over the edge, if he did not control his anger then…  
   Again, he clicked his tongue in annoyance, to make both his presence and his disapproval known to the boy.   


	2. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiers from latest chapters ~85ish I think.

Shirō Fujimoto had been lazily smoking one of his favourite-brand cigarettes when the sound of brisk steps had reached his trained ears. He did not have to wait long before the presence he had felt walking around the empty halls several minutes earlier came closer to his position. As an Exorcist, he had conditioned his body to recognise demon’s aura and, in particular, he could always tell when Mephisto was around.

Grey smoke left his lips as he glanced upwards focusing on the ceiling. In the past few years, the Asylum had grown darker and more sinister in a sense. It wasn’t the same as when he was born, the cruelty of experiments on human embryos had escalated, making him wonder if those who commissioned and worked no such projects were even human themselves. Himself being a test subject, he had always been well aware of the harsh reality about the facility.  
On the outside, it looked like an orphanage; a charitable school ran by an eccentric aristocrat. Inside, however, blunt walls hosted hundreds of kids destined to become demon’s butchers in the name of the True Cross Order. Deep underground, secret laboratories, where scientists from the Order experimented on unborn babies to find ways to _please_ the Demon Kings, sported all sorts of advanced equipment as well as gruesome creatures.

It had been different when Shirō was born, at that time they had merely been cloning humans with the help of enhanced Demon’s cells. He had gone through test after test only to find out that he, like all the other kids of his generation, had been a failure. Hence, in order to not waste precious human material, the Order had decided to conscript all children and turn them into fearsome warriors of God against the Evil.

Now, at the age of fifteen, his skills surpassed those of many Exorcists from the older generations. It probably was due to the enhanced treatment he had received, but not all children had responded well to that. Some had died and not too many had developed abilities like his. Not that he cared about the cruel methods employed by the Order, he was born and raised solely for being a vessel to Azazel and, when that had failed, his objective had shifted to slaughtering lesser demons. Defending human rights in the name of some compassion he did not possess was not his duty; all he had to do was take care of stray demons.

Another cloud of smoke left his mouth, the sound of steps getting closer before finally coming to a stop. His senses told him that something was off about Mephisto. He could feel the rage emanating from his body like poison; still he did his best to not appear affected by it.  
Usually, the demon who worked as principal of the “school”, would have kept his cool even under strenuous circumstances, so dear he held etiquette. Shirō had no idea what could have caused such a reaction in him. Although he had heard about intruders into the labs and that they had been disposed of by Mephisto’s servants, he did not expect him to lose his composure over that. As a demon collaborating with the Church, he should have foreseen potential attacks to his person.

A click of said demon’s tongue brought him back to Earth and, slowly, he turned to look at him, his lit cigarette safely held between his index and middle fingers. The furious green eyes that met his gaze were enough to set ablaze his skin, such was the power of the greater being facing him. He felt the demon’s anger burn though his clothes and reach straight into his core.  
Except for his eyes and the tension in his clenched fists, however, nothing betrayed the demon’s feelings. It was as if the mask had yet to fall apart, but it had been pierced through and was showing bits of the ferocious beast which resided behind.  
   If others would have been running for their lives when faced with such a terrifying sight, Shirō was even more eager to take the risk of making that ever-present façade crack open. He longed for that shot of adrenaline, which coursed his body every time he defied fate and escaped sure death. Besides, a chance like this only happened once in a million lives.

With a mischievous smile playing on his lips, he questioned the demon, ‘Something bothering you, Mr Principal?’

‘The dreadful stench of that _thing_ you are holding,’ Mephisto’s voice was low but his it still cut through Shirō’s defences. Something was definitely different, he reasoned, the tone with which those words had been uttered held the power to send chills down his spine within it. Yet, instead of listening to his survival instinct, he plainly ignored the warnings and alarm bells ringing into his ears.

Slowly, without interrupting eye contact, he brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply. Then, he nonchalantly released the smoke in Mephisto’s direction.  
   Before he could even blink, cigarette and smoke had both gone and he was on the hard ground, his head held firmly pressed against rude stone by skinny fingers. His left arm was caught at an unpleasant angle and the pressure on it discouraged him from trying to snatch it free from the demon’s grasp.

Shirō turned towards his assaulter; Mephisto towered him from behind, green eyes glowing like hell fire. A dark murmur left his lips, ‘Smoking inside the Asylum is not permitted”.  

Even though the grip on his wrist was not enough to snap his shoulder, it was still tighter than usual and the amount of strength the demon was using on him, a mere human teenage, was far from appropriate. Shirō groaned inwardly at the thought of injured tendons and broken bones, all for a smoke. Narrowing his eyes he stared directly into Mephisto’s burning ones. ‘Who are you?’ he asked. For one thing, he knew Principal Mephisto Pheles would have never physically harmed him, nor any of the other humans in the facility, not for something so little at least. _You don’t eat your own pieces in chess,_ Shirō thought.

The light in the demon’s eyes seemed to gain even more intensity as he chuckled, straightened his back and with an air of self-importance announced, ‘I am Samael, the King of Time’.

Shirō’s jaw would have dropped open had he not been suddenly dragged up on his feet by the demon. Mephist-no _Samael_ looked at him, eyes glowing and a feral grin on his face. His askew eyebrows clearly stated that his mood had not improved at all in that split second that had taken him to get Shirō up. ‘And you, Shirō Fujimoto-kun, place yourself in a dangerous position by defying the second strongest in Gehenna. Student or not, I do not appreciate those who disrespect me’. 

‘Well, _Samael_ , I found it just a little tricky to identify your Royal Highness when your attire suggests that you are a royal jester, rather than a King. If I had known to be in the presence of such a high raking demon I would have minded my manners’. _And possibly greeted you with blessed incense instead of smoke,_ he mentally added.  
   _Seriously? A demon **King**?! _ Shirō’s mind screamed. _What the fuck are the higher-ups thinking?...but then again,_ he reasoned, _it would make sense that such a horror facility is ruled by a King of Hell. Who else would be a better guardian if not one of those who more than anyone wishes for the success of these experiments?_   

‘I do not endeavour to keep my identity a secret, the fact that you did not know that merely means you haven’t been around long enough. If I recall correctly, you were only recently reassigned to the role of exorcist instead of that of guinea pig,’ Samael smirked; his pure, malefic glare met Shirō’s narrowed eyes. The demon could sense the hatred emanating from the exorcist’s body, the boy must have truly despised him if he did not even bother to hide his hostility.

‘Indeed, it is your true nature that you try to mask behind those fake smiles and that clown’s attitude,’ Shirō stated through his teeth. He wasn’t pissed because he had been ignorant about Mephisto’s true identity, no, the origin of his anger ran deeper into his veins.  
   Demons, he could deal wit, smaller ones that is since they were almost part of Assiah, _almost,_ and he could always kill them. A Demon _King_ was a whole different story. To say Shirō loathed them would have been an understatement; there was simply no word in his vocabulary to express the feeling he became posses with whenever the thought of crossing the path of a Demon King propped into his mind.

The Kings of Gehenna were the reason creature like him had been created. His life was meaningless without that; he felt like a tool, one of the many mass-produced spare wheels that were meant to be back-up hosts for the Royalty of Hell.  His very existence was entirely depended on his role as a potential vessel; there had been no love, no humanity in his creation. Cold, _demonic_ , hands had used a syringe and whatever science they could make use of at the time to clone him from Azazel’s remains. Then, from the moment he came into this world until a few months before, he had been observed, tested upon and held in captivity.

Of course, he had been instructed in the basics of demonology along with other school classes. Motivated by his own grudge against demons he had even gone further, investigating all the arts of Exorcisms and affiliated branches, since there seemed to be no restriction on the books he could borrow from the immense library the Asylum hosted. Nevertheless, despite all his research, all he could find about Demon Kings was very scarce information about their peculiarities and a warning to instantly flee in case you faced one in battle.

Not that he had any intention to listen to the advice, now that he was looking at Samael straight into the eyes, holding his gaze without trace of fear, boiling race filling his body. It was his fault if everything remotely human had been taken away from him since birth, or rather had never been given to him. Funnily, it seemed as if Samael was the victim in here, being targeted by assassination’s squads who wanted to ruin his “ _holy”_ plans. Shirō didn’t know why the Vatican was agreeing to all of this, but he suspected it was because no one had the guts to face the wrath of a Demon King.

 _Well, I might be reckless and an idiot, but I’ve got nothing to lose here._ With his best killing look, he spat at the demon, ‘Who do you think you are? Toying with things like creation and people’s lives…If you have the power to give life to someone, then you should take care that life isn’t used as a replaceable, throw-away, worthless pieace of junk'.

 

Samael’s eyes went wide and his eyebrows shot up into the sky. He was surprised, and vaguely amused, by Shirō’s accusations. ‘Did the heat of the moment made you forget who you are addressing, Fujimoto-kun? I am a Demon King, why would I bother myself over such trivialities such as human’s lives and wellbeing?’ he chuckled, ‘You’re merely pawns on a board bigger than you can imagine’. There was no doubt that he saw himself as the one moving the pieces rather than one of them.

Before he could think or realise what was happening, his body had already launched forward, hands grabbing the throat of a very much shocked Samael, eyes as burning as those of the demon.  
   A smile cracked Samael’s lips as he cocked his head to the side, his eyes glowing a faint green. ‘You are despicable,’ Shirō told him, his nose less than an inch from the demon’s. He was well aware of the little to null effects his hands were having on the older being’s neck, his muscles felt like iron and there was no sign of discomfort on his face.

‘You’re very brave, or very insane, to leash out at me in such poor manner after being warned’. Suddenly, everything became blurred, Shirō’s eyes didn’t seem able to focus while his surroundings kept whirling around him causing him nausea. Then it all stopped, everything went black and, given the circumstances,  he wasn’t even sure if he was alive or not, let alone guessing where this place was. Stretching his arms into the darkness, he attempted to take a few steps, at least there seemed to be a flat floor in front of him.

Due to the incomplete information on Demon Kings, he didn’t know much about Samael’s powers, but something from inside whispered to him that he was still alive. With his rage partly gone, he felt very much tired. _Man, I can’t see a thing…I should probably take this opportunity to catch up on sleep and then look for the exit once I have rested enough._ With these thoughts in mind, he lied on the floor and soon fell asleep.


	3. Into the wolf's lair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Some crude language and mild violence.

Samael sat at his large desk in the dim light coming from the moon high up in the sky outside his window. He sighed as he mentally replayed last night’s events. Losing his temper was not a pleasing experience; he was used to always being in control, of others and of himself. Much to his dismay, instead of being dissipated, his anger still lingered at the back of his mind; a vase filled to the brim with gun’s powder, ready to explode at any time.

That’s why he had seen fit to send the rebellious teenage away from him, lest he harmed the fragile human in an irreparable way. He might not have been pleased by his attitude, but he despised even more accidentally breaking his toys in a fit of anger. He had already been pissed beyond limit when the boy had decided to test his very thin patience. No wonder he had let his ever-present mask slip and allowed him to get a glimpse of his demonic side.  
If the exorcist had thought that was his true self, Samael grinned, he would have been so wrong. As the multifaceted being that he was, his true nature was outside the grasp of humans’ mind. 

He folded his hands, fingers laced together and elbows resting on the finely polished wood. His lips brushed against the back of his entwined fingers, his gaze focused on something invisible to others as memories flashed through his mind. A green spark lightened his eyes as he recalled the way Shirō had opposed him, defied him and ultimately assaulted him. The hatred he had felt was real, and pungent just like the smell of his smoke. He could guess why the boy was furious at him, as a bitter truth had transpired through his heated words.  
Mephisto _was_ jovially assembling a colourful assortment of toys to play with in the near future. But Samael, he had totally different motives for what he was doing and more than just a few. The child had a long way to go before he could claim that he had seen through him. Not that Samael ever planned to unveil his rationale to him or anyone else; a demon’s secrets are better left untold. 

Through the special connection that he had with the pocket dimension where he had stored Shirō, he felt the boy giving up on exploring his surroundings in favour of sleep. Eyebrows twitching, he wondered whether it was an exaggerated self-confidence or blind madness that made him act so carelessly. He had gone to sleep, as if to tell the demon that he did not deem his games worth enough of his attention. 

Resisting the urge to tear apart the newly created dimension, the Demon King briefly closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He had other things to take care of right now. Besides, he knew he could not let a human remain locked inside the alternative worlds he created for too long without their bodies deteriorating, unless he equipped the space with special features, which he had not had the time to do when he had hastily shoved the boy inside it.  
   Opening his eyes, he reached for a white paper on his desk, picked up his pen and inkhorn and started writing in his elegant Kurrent calligraphy. The Vatican would soon hear from him about the “accident” that had happened earlier in the evening, he darkly smiled to himself as elaborated sentences appeared one after the other like stains on the immaculate paper.

 

…

With a stir, Shirō woke up. Immediately, his eyes shot open and all he could see was the darkness permeating the air. _If this is not what death looks like…_ Getting up he stretched his back and hips, he did not know how long he had been asleep for, but his body felt rested and ready for action. Blinking his eyes, he tried to focus on anything other than pitch black, but as hard as he might try there seemed to be nothing but emptiness surrounding him.  
Scratching his head, he reasoned that if Samael was indeed the King of Time then the time he had spent there might as well be an illusion in his mind and that no more than a few seconds might have passed since he last saw the demon. For all he knew, time could have stopped flowing in the new place where he was, provided he was still alive. Nevertheless, he decided to explore the area around to see if there was an exit or a weakness in its structure.

After what it seemed hours of pointless search and running around in circles, he sat down on the ground with his legs crossed and hands on his knees. There was no sign of any weak spots he could breach through and whatever this place was, it appeared to be physical rather than a trick on his mind.  
   _The bastard must have locked me away in some other dimension_ , he deduced. His anger flared up again at the thought of what he had discovered earlier: Mephisto’s true identity. Spite filled his thoughts as he heard his words echoing into his mind _“I am Samael, the King of Time”_.  _  
_

_The King of Time_ , one of the loathsome Demon Kings. And the way he had spoken, placing himself above everyone else… _Tsk, it is true you are stronger than anyone, save for Satan and your older brother, but it doesn’t mean that I will curl up into a ball and cry over my fate. I have sworn revenge against you, and Demon King or not, I will see that you suffer for your actions,_ Shiro thought. As an exorcist, he did not take pleasure in exterminating demons, but he would have loved kicking Samael’s and his seven brothers’ asses. _Especially Samael’s_ , as he seemed to have had a more direct role in his creation. A whimsical grin played on his lips as he thought, _a puppeteer assaulted by his own puppets._ Well he wasn’t going to be manipulated so easily by him.

Sliding his hand into his pocket, he took out a lighter and a packet of cigarettes. He needed fuel to make his brain work if he wanted to outsmart that demon. He had already figured that there was no way out unless Samael in person came to pick him up. _Now, what better way to call him here than offer him a smoke?_  
   He hoped that his conjectures were true and that this place was directly linked to the mind of the demon. With meticulous gestures, he lit up the cigarette and took in a deep breath. _Let’s see how you deal with a fuming brain._ _‘_ Samael…’ he whispered curling his lips in a feline smile.   

 

…

Samael had just finished signing off his letter to the Vatican when a very unpleasant feeling caused his body to violently shudder, leaving a huge inkblot right where his signature had been a moment earlier. Anger quickly building up, he uttered ‘That _imbecile_ …’ Strong hands pushed against his desk, moving the chair backwards.

In the blink of an eye he materialised in front of Shirō; smoke and lighter both disappeared from the teen’s hands as he snapped his fingers. The Exorcist got up and looked down straightening his shirt as if no enraged demon had just appeared in front of him. Samael’s apoplectic look scanned the boy from head to toes; maybe his anger was putting so much pressure on the human in front of him that he would not dare look up. Finally, the boy raised his head and, surprisingly, his eyes held a contemptuous look when they locked into Samael’s ones. 

The demon’s pointy ears twitched in annoyance, yet he did not let his mask slip this time. He had no intention of staging a replay of their previous encounter’s events. ‘Took you long enough to show up,’ he heard the boy say.

‘Yet it seems as if the time you spent in here has been unfruitful. Maybe with a few more hours…’ he casually gestured with his right hand, but his green eyes flashed daggers at Shirō when said _human harshly grabbed his collar_. 

‘Do not play with me,’ the boy hissed through his teeth, ‘I’m already fucking sick of your games’.      

_I could say the same to you and those of your kind,_ Samael thought but instead he rewarded his recklessness with a sly smile and a cutting reply, ‘Oh, but that’s what I love doing the most with my toys: p-l-a-y with them’.

‘You son of a…’ A loud crack followed by a pained moan interrupted Shiro’s midsentence.

‘May I remind you,’ Samael cold gaze travelled along the body of his charge, ‘That you are a few thousand years too early to try and best me in a fight’. _A broken bone or two shouldn’t cause him too much harm_ , he thought looking down on Shirō’s crouched form below him. ‘I put you here so that you could clear your head from hazardous emotions,’ _and to avoid this as well,_ he grimly reminded himself _._

‘ _My_ head? Or is it you who cannot control his temper?’ the child retorted adding fuel to the flames in Samael’s mind. The demon’s eyes narrowed and a dangerous light appeared deep within them. He could not fathom what was in this human that seemed to tick him off with every word that left his lips. Forcing himself to keep a considerate level of calmness, he slowly replied, ‘I see neither words nor brute force seems to get the message through with you. Then how about this?’ He snapped his fingers once and suddenly they were into his private office.

 

Shirō found himself sitting into a comfortable armchair right across Samael’s. A confused look appeared on his face as he silently addressed the demon for an explanation. In response, Samael got up, approached him and with a sinister smile plastered on his lips he knelt beside his chair. Nimble fingers covered in white gloves then went to work on the buttons of his shirt and, before Shiro could recover from the shock, the cloth garment and already left him, gently falling in a folded pile on the desk.

‘Two broken ribs,’ the demon assessed pressing his fingers against Shirō’s chest making the teen grimace in pain, ‘And a sprained wrist’. He extracted a splint from a pink case that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere and proceeded to secure Shirō’s wrist to it, careful as a mother would have been while feeding her new-born baby. ‘I can’t do much for the ribs; they will have to repair themselves on their own. However, this should help you cope with the pain as well as help them staying in place, at least temporarily,’ he said glancing up at a very confused Shirō while encircling the teen’s chest with his arms in order to secure a loose leather belt emanating a strong herbal fragrance around it. ‘Of course it would be good if you stopped smoking,’ he added softly. 

The teen watched him with widened but attentive eyes, waiting for events to take a dark twist at any time. Nothing of the sort happened and when he had finished medicating him, Samael dressed him up in his shirt, neared his face to his and with a cunning smile he whispered, ‘All done’. 

Shiro felt the urge to jump out of the chair at the sudden closeness; he wished he could just disappear as the demon did while he mentally prompted his heart to stop pumping blood ferociously into his veins.  
   As if he could feel his uneasiness, the demon’s smile widened and he leaned a bit closer, placing his palms on Shiro’s legs. Their noses brushed when he softly added, ‘Or maybe you wanted me to kiss it better…?’ That questioning, and questionably flirtatious, voice had nothing to do with the innocent look displayed in his eyes.  

Shiro could not stop himself from shoving the demon back with all his strength. ‘What the heck…?’

A frown had appeared on Samael’s face causing his eyebrows to rhythmically twitch, but the smile still lingered on his lips. ‘You shouldn’t strain yourself so much or your ribs won’t heal in the right position and then I might have to break them again,’ he said in a cheerful tone as if causing pain to the teenage boy in front of him gave the demon incommensurable pleasure. Nothing could be further from the truth, as many more things he could have done to the boy would have been far more pleasurable from his point of view.

‘You keep your hands and kisses the hell away from me!’ Shirō shouted getting up, eyes wincing due to the sharp pain in his side. He was confused and outraged by Samael’s behaviour, it was as if the demon was trying to play some dirty trick on his mind and he had no intention of letting him do that. 

A predator smile appeared on the King of Time’s lips, ‘But of course, I wouldn’t _dream_ of taking with force what should be given willingly and wholeheartedly, Shiro-kun ☆’. The high-pitched tone with which he had said his name reminded Shirō of his Mephisto persona, the clown’s attitude he reserve for when he wanted to fool people into trusting him and lowering their guards. His inquisitive gaze scanned the grinning demon in front of him looking for clues on what his mind might have been orchestrating behind that Cheshire smile. 

‘Well, see to it that you stay true to what you just said,’ he replied taking a step back towards the door, still puzzled by the demon’s behaviour. The longer he stared at him, the more he seemed to revert to Mephisto as his eyes softened and his aura blurred, losing part of his threatening colour.   

The principal raised an eyebrow. ‘Leaving already? Not even a "thank you",’ he mused.

A light swiftly beamed in Shirō’s eyes. ‘No,’ he flatly refused before turning on his heels and leaving the room, as he shut the door closed he tightened his jawline upon hearing the clown behind it loudly snicker.

 

...

Alone in his office the Demon King smiled at himself while landing on his chair. His hands folded in front of him with elbows resting on the glassy wooden desk, he rested his chin on them.

 

_Humans, they truly are a work of art like no other._

_Although much can be said about them, I will limit myself to contemplate the amusing expressions they display when faced with something that defy their logic. An unexpected turn of events, a twist of fate or, in this case, a demon acting as a concerned nursemaid.  
_

_Oh, how I loved the perplex look the boy gave me when I was mending his wound that_ I _had caused moments earlier. The uneasiness and doubt settling in his young heart as he did not understand why, all of a sudden, I was caring for him as a mother would._

_Yes, it definitely was fun to watch the show of emotion parading on his face:_

_Confusion, discomfort, outrage and suspicion._

_And that final look of defiance,_

_Without doubt, he makes a truly congenial piece._


	4. Starlight

Shirō took brisk steps as he distanced himself from Mephisto’s office as quickly as he could in his injured state. Down the winding staircase and then out of the palace, he threw himself into the endlessly stretching corridors of the Asylum’s underground. He needed space, and time, to calm down.

 _What the hell was that?_ He had been surprised by Samael’s sudden change in attitude, to the point that he had let his guard down and allowed those filthy hands to roam his body. Even though he had been tending to his wounds, Shirō could not help finding the whole ordeal unsettling.  
And those final words, _Not even a “thank you”._ He scowled at the thought of ever thanking a Demon King, _the Evil incarnated_.

Hasting his pace, he slid his hand into his trousers’ back pocket only to find it empty. _Fuck!_

That damn clown had taken away _all_ of his cigarettes as well as his lighter. Right when he needed his drug the most. Recalling the last smoky breath he had taken made his heart tingle with satisfaction. Samael’s vexed expression had fully rewarded his audacity. Too bad that had cost him more than he was prepared to lose. He had just bought those cigarettes and the lighter was a memento he got from his friend Eiji.

The young Exorcist ran a hand through his rebellious hair ruffling it even more.  He had not intended to lose his temper again in front of the Demon King, but his mere presence had caused Shirō’s blood to catch fire. His aura, his scent, his gaze, everything about him seemed to plunge the teen into an angered state. He didn’t even try to look less unamiable, with his superior’s talks.  
_The truth is,_ Shirō thought grinding his teeth, _that he reminds me of how powerless I am, a doll in his hands._  
Damn him, he muttered to himself wincing at the pain in his chest as his breathing sped up.

'Fujimoto-kun'. Shirō spun on his heels, turning around to glare at Tanaka-sensei. ‘I am informed by the Principal that you require medical attention. Please report to the infirmary as soon as possible to have a full check-up,’ the old man in Exorcist clothes said.

Shirō blinked, had Mephisto actually told the man about their “little” altercation? Surely, the demon knew better than to publicly flaunt his accomplishments in bullying his subjects. But then again, that clown was far from predictable. ‘There’s no need for that, Meph-the Principal has already patched up my wounds. It’s nothing life-threatening’.

‘I insist,’ the man said in a firm tone, ‘This is a direct order from your superior, Fujimoto-kun, go see a doctor’.

 _Or a sultry nurse,_ Shirō thought. However, the idea of paying a visiting to the doctor bothered him. He wasn’t a fan of those _men of science_ who worked in section 13 and by extension he did not appreciate having some stranger in a white cloak handling his body. _Crap, that perfectly fits the description of what happened in Mephisto’s office,_ he realised recalling the clothes the demon had been wearing. ‘Fine, fine, I’ll go,’ he told the teacher whose vigilant eyes had been scanning his face for a sign of _something_.

Tanaka-sensei was a Tamer who worked as an Exorcist as well as holding practical demonstrations in front of the kids at school. Having been created as clones from demonically altered cells, many of the kids showed an unusual talent in summoning demons. Unfortunately, not many had the nerves to hold their ground in front of a real demon and claim it as their pet.  
Shirō had only been 10 when he had witnessed a fourteen-year-old boy ran away from the Naberius he had accidentally summoned, ultimately being killed by it. The images had hunted his dreams for many nights and he had refused to attempt to summon anything after that. 

Being a Tamer shaped your very soul, continuously altering your humanity in order to strengthen the link with your demons. As an upper first class Exorcist, Tanaka-sensei was able to summon high-ranking demons and the many years of experience in controlling them had given him a deeper insight in both demonic nature and its human counterpart. His enquiring gaze told Shirō that he was examining him, looking for specific signs which might trigger an alarm bell into his head.

Holding his gaze, he pushed a smile onto his lips and asked, ‘Is something wrong, Tanaka-sensei?’

The older man shuddered lightly as he was forced out of his deep thoughts upon being addressed by Shirō. He shook his head, teal eyes gazing back at Shirō, ‘Just wondering…you haven’t felt anything different at all recently, no?’

‘No’. Shirō was confused, but not surprised by the question. There was always a chance that any of them would suddenly become possessed by a Demon King and people like Tanaka-sensei tended to watch out for such changes. ‘I’ll be on my way then’. Shirō turned and started walking away when he heard the Senior Exorcist add, ‘Pay attention that you do not injure yourself next time you’re trying to sneak up on the girls in the bathroom’.

Every hair on Shirō’s body stood up as his irritation piqued at the teacher’s revealing words. _Damn Mephisto_. Not that he had never attempted such task, but he had hoped for the Principal to come up with a better story than “The horny teenager who received fate’s judgement for spying on naked girls”. Sighing inwardly, he continued walking without altering his pace, pretending he had not heard. Besides, there was almost no girl at the Asylum, since most Demon Kings were male, so if he _really_ had wanted to give himself a treat he would have paid a visit to the nurses’ office.  

 

As Shirō made his way to the infirmary, a troubled Tadashi Misumi crossed his path; he was walking in the opposite direction, his nose buried deep into his papers. The young doctor didn’t even notice the slight nod the teen had given him when they had passed each other and hurriedly disappeared behind a thick door. Shrugging his shoulders Shirō opened the double doors which led into the main area of the hospital.

The stench of alcohol and sanitizers assaulted his nose. He blinked, eyes slowly adjusting to the disproportionate amount of light flashing inside the room. ‘Shirō-kun!’ a jovial voice shouted to his right. The teen turned towards the sound and his eyes met the sight of a brown-haired boy staring at him with a dreamy look.

‘Abel,’ he replied getting closer to the bed where the other was lying. Even though his features looked like those of a kid younger than him, in truth Abel was much older, being from the previous generation and a clone of Lucifer. His body had always been weak, however, and he had been tested on over and over again. Shirō had no doubt that his life was nearing the end, even with all the extra care the scientists seemed to pay to his condition.   

‘What brings you here?’ The blonde-haired child asked Shirō with a smile. It was as if he were looking at a little star, even though its light was dimming. For a moment Shirō pondered the option of sharing what had transpired between him and the principal, but then he decided to keep his mouth shut. It didn’t take a genius to realise Mephisto would have been more than slightly pissed if word got out that he had injured one of the students.

‘Just a regular check-up,’ he said vaguely, ‘Got caught up in something’. Shirō sat on the edge of the bed and gave Abel a better look, ‘You seem as radiant as usual. Honestly, how can you even enjoy spending all of your time inside here?’ He tried to start up a small talk, but his thoughts were elsewhere, _why did he suddenly switch personality? Maybe it turns out he is schizophrenic._

‘Oh, but, Shirō-kun,’ Abel covered his mouth with his small puffy hand, a lecherous look in his aquamarine eyes; ‘Where else would I get so much attention from such pretty nurses?’

‘Ah-ah,’ Shirō released a soft laugh, yet his eyes narrowed. ‘Seriously, though, don’t you get bored of lying in bed all day?’ _Not to mention undergoing all those experiments._

‘Not so much, here’ he added gesturing towards the space between the bed and the floor, ‘I’ve got all I need’.

Well-aware of what he was referring to, and not wanting to prolong the conversation any further, Shirō sighed. ‘It was nice seeing you…I think I should be going soon, the doctor must be waiting’. _And I have more important things to worry about right now._  

‘No worries, I have plenty of items in here to keep me busy. Don’t feel compelled to keep me company,’ he reassured the Exorcist.

‘Uh, then…see you?’ Shirō asked getting down from the bed, a note of uncertainty spoiled his light tone.

‘Yes, of course,’ the kid replied with a bright smile. Then he curled downwards and picked up a pair of knitting needles and a yarn, his attention abandoning Shirō in favour of the instruments he was handling with extreme care. The Exorcist looked at him with vague interest, his thoughts still fuzzy.

‘Fujimoto-kun,’ a voice called him from the other side of the corridor, ‘Are you here for the health check Sir Pheles requested?’

Shirō’s brows furrowed at the mention of the Principal’s name but he kept his voice even when he said, ‘Yes. I believe you all are overreacting a bit, it’s just a few scratches and he already…’

‘He wouldn’t have been so serious about it if he didn’t deem the injuries potentially harmful to your body. Even I am surprised, though, hearing that he already looked at you; what else could I do that he has not already done?’ the doctor asked himself more than Shirō. 

‘That’s why I am saying it’s a wast-‘. The boy was interrupted in his speech as the doctor yanked him by his left wrist towards a separate room.

‘Come now, don’t be a difficult child and listen to your superiors,’ the man said in a condescending tone.

 _Difficult child my ass, all you do is to follow this and that order so as long you receive your dirty money._ He snatched his arm free from the doctor’s grasp. _At least his grip not as strong as Samael’s._ ‘You don’t want to ran away, unless you prefer to be knocked out and examined while you’re unconscious,’ the doctor threatened. _Of course, that’s the standard procedure when troublesome subjects don’t comply,_ Shirō thought while forcing himself to remain calm.

‘So now’. The doctor took a seat inside the small room, opened a drawer in his desk and extracted some papers from it. Examining his files he said, ‘“Two broken ribs and a sprained wrists” that’s what the report in here says. And, “No need to check on the ribs, they will heal on their own. The wrist has been secured with a splint’. He looked up at Shirō with his golden eyes. ‘”Conduct a full physical examination”,’ he concluded monotone.

 _What the hell?_ Shirō was dumbstruck by the directives Mephisto had left in his report. _What do I need a full examination for?_ _And, how did he managed to send that file this quickly, it hasn’t even been 40 minutes since I left his office._ Meanwhile, the doctor had proceeded to gather his utensils and was lining them up on the silver table next to his chair. Shirō shifted the weight on his feet at the sight. Surely, Mephisto knew his relationship with medical equipment and such, he couldn’t stand someone else operating them on his body.

 _No, no!_ His head screamed as the ignorant doctor took his pulse. _This doesn’t make any sense! It’s just three broken bones, why the hell would my heart rate have anything to do with it?_ He uncomfortably sat in the chair as he had been told to do, rolling up his sleeve to grant the doctor better access to his veins.

The needle pierced his skin and he suppressed a gasp which had threatened to leave his lips as the blood was being sucked out. While he watched his vital fluids flow though tiny tubes, memories of the past resurfaced. _He wanted to remind me._ He concluded with a sombre tone, his eyes darkening. _He played the part of the clown so well, catching me off guard. Indeed, humans are easier to trick when they are confused. Warfare is based on deception,_ Shirō reminded himself, _and demons are most dangerous when they are smiling._

A light flashed into his eyes as the doctor examined them, but he didn’t even blink. His heart ached, he had let the demon exploit his weakness and he felt used and humiliated because of him. It was a complicated relationship and a difficult truth to accept all at once. _Mephisto is Samael and Samael is Mephisto…no that can’t be true._ Now that it was no longer obfuscated by anger, his mind refused to associate the two strikingly different images together. Yet, deep within his heart he knew it to be true and that made his head hurt even more.    

When the doctor finally released him, he got up and left the room without a word. Walking back towards the only exit he glanced at Abel’s bed. A red thread connected to his hands trailed down the sheets and disappeared below the bed. From that darkness, lifeless glassy eyes of countless puppets stared back at him as he walked past. A spark of light caught his attention and from the corner of his eye he saw a syringe pluck Abel’s fair skin. The kid was silent, his eyes cast down and a teddy bear tightly clutched against his chest. Shirō walked out, ignoring the bitter taste at the back of his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the kids mentioned in here and future chapters appeared in the Manga, on the list Lightning found. Other are just a product of my imaginaion.


	5. Memories

Green, that was all Shirō could see. He blinked but the fluorescent bulb in front of his eyes did not disappear. His eyes burnt and so did his throat, being immersed in that jelly substance was not comfortable at all. As many other laboratory-bred kids, he was born a clone to Azazel, his only use to be a vessel for the Demon King.  
Just like all the others, he was a failure. Yet that didn’t mean that he couldn’t be used as a lab rat for the purpose of boosting the ongoing research on the Elixir and the _Perfect Body_.

He had been lucky though. Unlike those from the younger generation who had been fostered inside tubes since birth, he had been able to live a fairly normal life up until a few weeks prior. At first, he had noticed that doctors had started doing check-ups on him more than usual. Then, he had been called into the hospital to try a new drug, which had the effect of enhancing one’s physical strength.

Things did not turn out too well after that. He had never been fond of attending classes; teachers would often describe him as a “difficult” child. Still, sitting in a hospital bed all day made him long for the time he spent in school with his comrades. He wasn’t even allowed to smoke inside those monochrome walls.

Shirō could not recall when exactly, but some weeks before, a man in white clothes had called him into his muddy office and after having gone through his curriculum he had been escorted to one of the labs, drugged again and lost consciousness. When he finally came to, his world had turned lime-green and he was floating into some disgusting gelatine.  

Focusing harder, he tried, in vain, to gain a better look of the outside world. Occasionally, tall people in while dresses would show up and examine his data. Sometimes they would stare at him or discuss among themselves about what Shirō assumed were his results. He had come to hate those achromatic figures whose lineaments were distorted by the glass and the liquid surrounding him, from his point of view they were no better than the demons they served.

Hence, his boiling rage resurfaced when the tallest man in the room entered his field of vision and made his way towards him. His deliberately slow pace allowed Shirō to take in as much details as possible while his features gained a clearer shape as he stepped closer. The stranger in a white cloak halted before him and Shirō rose his fiery gaze to meet his equally entrancing look. Green, glowing eyes stared back at him through the glass. They studied each other with interest, the bottled-up child and the merry _demon_.

Shirō knew it had to be one, since he had felt his power propagating from his stare through his prison’s wall. At long last, the creature spoke, his lips curling up in a ghastly grin. Shirō could not make out his words, but he assumed they had been directed towards someone else, for soon enough there was a commotion inside the room. Frowning, the demon turned his head bending it to the side as he quickly questioned one of the doctors. The unlucky man vigorously shook his head, his body seized by tremors of fear.

Before he knew what was going on, the substance in Shirō’s container had been drained and he was “set free” by Sir Mephisto Pheles, the Principal himself apparently.  
Although he had heard of the Principal while in school, as he had been threatened countless time to be sent to him, he had never actually met him in person.  Of course, he was also aware that the man was in truth a demon who acted as a frivolous German aristocrat.

Once the initial shock had passed, Shirō realised he was stark naked in front of everyone, Mephisto included, and shamefully tried to protect his intimate parts from their sight. Unfortunately, his hands offered very little cover and the demon appeared delighted by the sight, causing the teen’s embarrassment to further increase to the point that both his cheeks and ears had turned bright red.

‘Here,’ he said gleefully wrapping the boy into his giant cloak. Shirō was caught off guard by that move and before he could protest about the compromising closeness the demon had already retreated. Staring back up at him a thousand questions buzzed in his hazy mind but he found no words to express his queries. ‘My…what a curious look you have in your eyes. Shall we talk more in private?’ the devilish grin on those lips widened as the demon questioned him instead. 

“Eins, zwei, drei” with a snap of Mephisto’s fingers and a puff of pink, Shirō’s world started swirling around him, causing him intense nausea before the surroundings finally settled down. Still half-naked, but with his glasses on, he looked around the room he had been catapulted into. Pink drapes were hanging in front of a monumental window, which gave onto a vast green area where a few houses belonging to True Cross Town had just began to appear. The space was mostly occupied by a majestic desk, covered in all sorts of miniature manga characters and various other articles you would usually expect to find hidden under the bed of a Japan-fanatic.

Mephisto gently sat onto the chair behind the desk, inviting Shirō to take a seat in front of him. As the teen sat down, he noticed that the baroque silk which decorated both their seats was also embellished with tiny ideograms depicting Shōjo anime’s characters, which Shirō didn’t know anything about.  Tearing his eyes away from a girl in a pink skirt doing somersaults, he focused his sight on Sir Pheles, who in the meantime had been watching him with a lascivious expression.

Immediately becoming aware of his situation, Shirō’s cheeks turned bright red. Licking his lips, the demon exposed his fangs to the boy as he said, ‘So, what is it that you want to ask me?’

Shirō head felt light, he was still weakened because of all that had happened and his thoughts were in disarray. Blinking to gain better focus he replied, ‘For starters, I’d like to get some clothes on that is not your coat’.

The demon snickered and with a snap of his long fingers Shirō’s clothing was replaced with a light blue yukata which barely reached his knees. ‘Is this better?’ Mephisto asked him.

Shirō was going to reply sharply but then decided to hold his tongue. Better to settle things first, then get changed. ‘Why would a demon save a human who is supposed to be a cavy in his own labs?’ he questioned him without any preambles.  

‘Why, indeed?’ the demon’s grin widened. If Mephisto had been a smoker, Shirō could have easily imagined him exhaling a smoke-ring from a hookah as he finished speaking, in a faithful imitation of Alice in the Wonderland’s Caterpillar.

 _Not gonna give me a straight answer uh,_ Shirō thought. Somewhere inside his mind, however, a voice screamed at him to be careful, for demons never give anything without asking for something equivalent in exchange.

‘Let’s just say,’ the demon continued, folding his hands together in front of him. ‘That you have piqued my interest and I wish to observe you a little more’.

Shirō involuntarily shivered at the look the demon gave him. _A puppet in his already extended collection._ Despite fear clutching at his heart, he stood up throwing the chair onto the floor and slammed his hand onto the table. The surroundings of the room blurred as he straightened his back, but he paid no attention to them. Something about Mephisto irked him. ‘I will not let you play me as a tool in your grand schemes’.

‘Is that so?’ suddenly everything turned black around him; a thick, hot fog burned his eyes and lungs as he turned around looking for Mephisto. Incandescent green eyes appeared behind him and he felt his hot breath on his shoulder before he heard, ‘May I remind you, Fujimoto-kun, that had it not been for me you would have still been playing dead fish into a tank in the labs,’ the demon grinned showing his fangs, ‘At least show some gratitude’.

And then Shirō knew, that voice, that aura, it was Samael talking to him.  He had the tone of someone who excelled at winning fights, with ease. Shirō felt the pressure on his shoulder growing by the minute. He wanted to turn to look straight into those burning eyes, but his own eyes had shut close and refused to open up. ‘Shirō-kun!’ a voice called him from a distance, in the darkness he couldn’t see who it was. ‘Shirō-kun!’

 

Shirō’s eyes shot open and he stared at the pale ceiling above him. Blinking, he reached for his glasses. The concerned face of Jin, his roommate, stood mere centimetres from his own. ‘Are you alright?’

Shirō gave him a slight nod grabbing the bottle of water he kept near his bed and drinking a considerable amount of the liquid in an attempt to soothe his nerves. He had dreamt, or rather, relived the past, jumping through different clips as a crazed videotape with cut scenes. ‘What’s the time?’ he asked.

‘About five, morning practice is starting soon’.

‘Shit, I feel like I need to throw up,’ he said getting up and taking a couple of steps towards the bathroom. Jin’s eyes flashed as he grew more concerned, ‘Should I call a teacher?’

‘No need to bother them, I just had a bad dream, I’ll be fine…’ he said waving his hand and marching in the toilet’s direction. ‘Just tell them I’ll be a bit late, will you?’

‘Uh, sure,’ the other replied quickly getting changed. ‘Just don’t be _too_ late, you know, we have Okabe-sensei lecturing in first period’.

 _Ahhh…That four-eye weirdo._ ‘Don’t worry I should be able to come along before practice is finished,’ he reassured Jin from the cloakroom as he bent over the toilet and emptied his stomach. He heard the other leave and, holding his head between his hands, he sat on the bathroom floor. He felt trapped into a paradox; the man he owed is life to, was the very man he wanted to kill.

‘Man, that demon surely loves screwing people up’.

Unknown to him, somewhere in the top floors of the building, a light pink curl jumped up and down as its owner merrily giggled. ‘Now then, Shirō-kun, shall we play a game ☆?'


	6. A day at school

Shirō arrived late that day, way later than he had expected. Okabe-sensei had already started one of his impossibly boring lessons and was going through the Principles of Quantum Mechanics trying to come up with a unifying theory about the nature of Gehenna and Assiah.

‘Fujimoto-san, you are late again. Did you get delayed by a dimensional shift again? Or was it the boundless fourth dimension of a woman breasts which held you up?’ He asked adjusting his glasses. ‘Whichever the answer, facts tell that you are late and thus I’ll sentence you to extra assignment work’.

The whole class had gone silent looking at Shirō who stood on the entrance, mouth twitching as he tried not to laugh at the ridiculous tone of the teacher. ‘Get to your seat now, the lesson shall not be interrupted any further,’ the man ordered.

‘Yessir!’ Shirō reached his seat next to Kenji and fished out his notebook from his almost empty schoolbag. Not that he would have been able to take notes with his wrist immobilised like that, but the professor did not seem to care. Out of all his teachers, Seihō Okabe was his least favourite. His lessons were long and often lasted more than the assigned 50 minutes. His only Meister was Doctor, as he had often told them stressing his love for science. However, he was highly-qualified in several branches of physics and currently appointed as teacher of “Structural properties of the Worlds”, a recently introduced course which aimed at unveiling the mysterious skeleton holding up the universe.

Shirō only found his lectures full of crap and lots of self-celebration. It was as if the man wasn’t even there as he seemed to talk more to himself than to the students. Not to mention that his microscopic scribbles on the board were basically illegible…and what was that supposed to be? Shirō blinked trying to focus on the unidentified symbol which had just appeared onto the board.

‘So by putting sigma inside here, and substituting it there…’

‘Excuse me’. A student raised their hand.

‘Then we can multiply it all by Euler’s constant…’ the professor kept going on, without noticing the pupil at all.

‘Okabe-sensei’ the same student insisted. Everyone in the classroom had stopped writing and was looking at the raven-haired girl with her arm up in the sky. Shirō got up and with his stronger voice he called, ‘Yo! Megane-sensei’.

Immediately, the attention shifted back on him. Okabe-sensei stopped his blabbering and raised his confused eyes from the stack of papers he held. Turning around the room he first focused on Shirō who was still standing, then moved his eyes on the girl whose arm was still up in the air. Adjusting his glassed he asked, ‘What is it?’  

‘Se-sensei,’ the girl said in a trembling voice, ‘That is an omega, not a sigma…’ She pointed at the ominous symbol Shirō had failed to recognise earlier. ‘We have a sigma in our notes as well, so which should it be?’ she added in a whisper.

Okabe-sensei adjusted his glasses again as he faced the classroom, his whole world slipping though his fingertips as realisation of the terrible mistake he had made took shape into his mind. ‘It is obvious it should be Omega, for if the sacred alphabet starts with Alpha, then it will end with Omega and thus we shall use it to indicate the cornerstone in our theory on the end of divergence,’ he solemnly announced. 

More than one student in the room wore a perplexed expression, but the girl appeared satisfied and hurried to clear up her notes. ‘What’s this “sacred alphabet” he is talking about?’ Shirō whispered to Kenji as he sat back down.  
Unfortunately, Okabe seemed to hear him because as his classmate was about to reply, he exclaimed, ‘The Sacred Testament of the World is written in the language of Mathematiks, and thus Greek shall be our AlphaBeth’. He struck a theatrical pose in front of the class with his right knee bent forward and his arms outstretched away from the body, a crazed smile on his lips. Nobody dared move, unsure if this was a test on their ability in repressing laughs.  ‘As I was saying…’ he resumed a few seconds later going back to the blackboard.

 

Shirō yawned, wishing he had arrived much later, _what a weirdo._

…

 

When the lesson finally ended, Shirō and his friends gathered outside in the courtyard. ‘Man, that surely lasted forever. I was so bored my eyelids kept shutting my eyes close,’ Jin commented stretching his back. His grey hair appeared translucent in the sun, reflecting the light coming from the distant star. He wasn’t a clone, unlike the others. Very little was known about him except that he was an orphan who had joined the courses about seven years earlier.

‘Humph, you should have just slept then and recovered some energy. Not that his lesson was anyway important,’ a red-haired boy next to them said. His name was Akira Sasaki, and he was a clone to the King of Fire.

‘I disagree with that statement,’ Kenji replied. ‘Understanding the base structure of Assiah and Gehenna might prove fundamental in the future’. The dark-haired boy was a conscientious student; he never missed a class and was in the top ten in all subjects. With his promising grades there was no doubt he could become a high-ranking Exorcist one day. As a clone of Egyn, the King of Water, he had an affinity to water-based demons and had already Meistered in Tamer, Aria and Dragoon.

Not many of the students the same age as Shirō had already passed the Exorcist’s examination, but almost all of his friends were qualified Exorcists. They all attended extra-classes on advanced topics such as the one lectured by Okabe. However, Shirō would have preferred to skip that one in favour of practical on-field action. Not that actual missions ever ran low, on the contrary there seemed to be always a need for more Exorcists. Thus, Shirō and his recently graduated friends were often assigned demanding tasks around the town’s area.

All in all, they made a pretty good team, or so Shirō thought. Akira was a Dragoon-Knight type, he preferred attacking the enemy head-on and had gotten into unpleasant situations more than once. However, his insane strength and stamina were surely valuable skills everyone felt like they could depend on.  
On the other side of the fence, Kenji was a cool-headed strategist who preferred to use his head more than his instinct. Plus, he as well had an abominable strength; Shirō didn’t want to engage in a fight with him, ever.

Jin, who was more “normal” as a person, had both Aria and Doctor Meisters. He was usually placed in the rear or at the centre, wherever the most protected area was. Everyone knew that in a fight protecting your Doctors and Arias was essential.

As for Shirō, despite having a talent for Tamer he refused to summon demons and so far he had only obtained a Dragoon Meister, since he had been reassigned as an Exorcist only fairly recently. Despite his trickster appearance, however, he was a clever student and his grades were almost as good as Kenji’s. He had read many books and studied demons more in depth than anyone else in the Asylum. He had personal reasons to do so, he had told himself. His fighting skills rivalled Akira’s who was one of the strongest at the Asylum and his spite for doctors had led him to learn how to medicate himself in case of emergency. 

Occasionally, some other Exorcist, like a back-up doctor, would join them on missions. That said, their team was surely made up of some of the best elements in the school and older Exorcists had great expectations for them all. But Shirō was different, he was the only one who had been left soaking in green liquids for approximately two weeks before being released and turned into a first rate Exorcist thanks to Mephisto’s intercession.    
The one closest to his case was Akira, who had received surgery a few years back, when he was still ten, to allow his body to withstand the power of the fire demon he was bounded to and increase his physical performances. 

‘Well, that might be useful to someone like _you,_ who might even understand the theory of it. All I need is a gun and blessed bullet to deal with demons,’ Shirō said and for some reason his mind pictured himself planting that bullet into Mephisto’s brain. 

‘That’s what you’d call “All-muscles-no-brain approach” right?’ said Jin giggling.

‘I think you’re mistaking me for Akira, Jin-kun,’ Shirō said grinning. Obviously, the short-tempered Akira could not let that comment slide. However, faithful to his character, instead of replying with a salacious remark, he decided to go all out on Shirō and give him a fast revision on how to use a human punching bag.  
Expecting such reaction, Shirō was quick to defend himself, but his recent injuries, including the fact that he had to fight one-handed, put him at disadvantage and soon his shirt was stained with his own blood.

‘Cut it out, Sasaki!’ Kenji said with an annoyed tone, ‘And you too, Shirō, don’t’ go provoking others when you’re in no condition to jump into a fight’. Immediately, Akira stopped in his tracks and assumed a guilty look. Kenji’s superior strength wasn’t something to be taken lightly.

Shirō chuckled, ‘Well, whatever’. He shrugged his shoulders adjusting his glasses back on his bleeding nose. ‘A battered look will make me look better in the eyes of a pure-hearted maiden,’ he said rising his thumb.

‘I don’t think that looking like a scarecrow is going to help your already miserable reputations with girls,’ said a velvet voice behind him. Shirō glanced at the girl who was just approaching them, the last member of their team: Akane Suzuki. Meister in Doctor, Knight and Tamer, she was an excellent fighter from many points of view as well as being Akira’s and Jin’s main object of attention when it came to attractive girls.

‘Tsk…which part of you resembles a maiden? You look more like a character from an ecchi fighting anime,’ Shiro replied. _Possibly one in Mephisto’s collection._

Her eyebrows twitched and soon the sharp edge of a blade found Shirō’s throat, ‘Don’t tempt me,’ she said, crimson red eyes looking straight into Shirō’s ones. They stared at each other for a few seconds before she lowered her weapon and sheathed it. ‘So, what have you been discussing about while I was gone?’

Akane was one year younger than everyone, but she was a prodigy, just like Kenji. _Damn, this school is so full of out of the ordinary people._ Shirō thought.

‘Nothing much,’ Jin said eyeing her lower back.

‘Wu-kun, I fear you might be prone to blindness. Please, take better care of your eyes,’ she said with a dark hint.   

‘Uh, sure,’ Jin quickly averted his gaze, slightly blushing.

Like Jin, Akane wasn’t born at the Asylum but had been accepted as a student at a young age. From what Shirō knew, she had a direct link to demons through the blood of some ancestor, though he ignored the details of her story. Her vermillion irises were one of the signs that her blood was mixed, another one being her conveniently concealed fangs.   

She wore an inquisitive gaze as she looked at each of them, expecting a better reply than Jin’s vague words. ‘We were expressing our opinions on Okabe-sensei’s lecture,’ Kenji said.

‘Oh,’ Akane looked at him with an interested gaze, her lips slightly parted. They started an animated conversation on complex scientific topics, which the others around them could not really follow. Akira stretched his back and went to sit on a nearby stone bench while adjusting his trademark headband, which had been left askew by the previous fight.

Meanwhile, Shirō, who had finally managed to stop his nose from bleeding, lamented, ‘Sheesh…I need a smoke, it feels like I haven’t had one in ages! Do you have a cigarette and a lighter, by any chance?’ He asked turning towards Jin.

‘Uh, yeah. Why, what happened to yours?’ Jin replied back at him with a curious look. The sun was shining brightly on that day and the teen’s grey hair reflected part of that light appearing more translucent.  

Shirō focused on that image while thinking the question over. He reasoned that even if he could not tell him the full truth, there was no harm in revealing just a part of it. Besides, he was eager to see what reaction his friends would have had if they heard who deprived him from his lighter and cigarettes.  ‘Sir Pheles took them away,’ he said with a straight face.  

‘Really?! How did that happen?’ Jin’s astonished tone neared a thrill and Shirō chuckled. Akira too seemed interested in their conversation as his yellow eyes followed Shirō’s movements.  

‘He caught me smoking inside the Asylum yesterday, before I broke my ribs. They were gone in an instant’. He skilfully imitated a magician’s move, drawing ample circles in the air with his hands and then snapping his fingers he added a “puff” sound sotto voce.

‘Geez, you sure are reckless, couldn’t you just have gone outside to smoke? You know the rules…’ Jin scratched his head.

‘But then I would have missed the Principal’s pissed expression. Trust me, that alone was worth the cost’ Shirō grinned. 

‘I take my words back. You're not just reckless, you're a suicidal maniac...’Jin said with a frown. Akira merely smiled, his head resting against the edge of his Khakkhara.

‘Anyway, I don't think you should smoke with your nose like that,’ Jin added.   

‘Ugh yeah, probably right,’ Shirō agreed glancing at Akira who gave him an innocent look. The wind blew, perturbing the green leaves hanging on the tree behind him.

Suddenly, the red-haired boy started, ‘By the way, Shirō-kun’. He then theatrically paused glancing at Akane. ‘I heard you got your injures from spying on naked girls. Was it even a good sight?’

 _Oh God, she’s gonna kill me,_ Shirō thought as Akane’s back stiffened and the girl turned to coldly glare at him. The air around them seemed to freeze while they engaged in a silent fight of stares. Every hair on Shirō’s body stood on alert. Although younger, Akane was not one to be underestimated, as her sword-skills surpassed even senior Exorcists. One wrong move and that could have ended very badly. Jin, overwhelmed by the tension, passed out while Akira’s eyes lightened up with interest as he carefully watched Akane’s pissed form.     

_Damn pervert, I bet he has said that on purpose so that he can ooze at her furious looks,_ Shirō mentally cursed his friend. On the other hand, Kenji observed them with an inscrutable expression. When Akane gently caressed the hilt of her sword Shirō took in a deep breath, preparing himself for the worst.

And then, the bell rang announcing their next lecture: Advanced Pharmacology. Neither Jin nor Akira attended that course, as they had not Meistered in Doctor yet. Shirō usually just went along since he basically knew most of the stuff already anyway and so could serenely sleep through the lectures without being bothered by the teacher.  

This time, however, he opted for a trip to the library, just to distance himself from the murderous intent emanating from Akane. Waving his hand, he mumbled an excuse through his lips, something about needing to wash his face from the blood, and walked away in the opposite direction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In my opinion, studies on the structure of the world might have led to the creation of the artificial Gehenna gate. That's why I added them.  
> Also, I am not 100% sure on Shiro's eye colour when he was young. I'll assume it has always been red...


	7. Otium et Officium

True to what he had said, Shirō stopped by the cloakrooms to wash his face from the dried blood. Looking at his nose, he noticed the horizontal mark where the nasal bones joined the frontal bone and his eyes narrowed. That better not leave a permanent scar on his face, or he would make Akira regret it. Carefully taking off his glasses, he opened the rusty sink.   

The lukewarm water from the lavatories refreshed his skin; Shirō shook his head spreading small droplets all around the room. When he opened his eyes again, he noticed a worryingly close pink blur in front of him. Quickly putting his glasses back on, he took a step backwards. ‘Mephisto!’

Said demon was staring at him from above the lavatories, his legs elegantly crossed. Judging from the way his eyebrows were angled, he was not in the best of the moods, though Shirō had no idea what might have upset him. ‘The one and the only,’ he replied getting down in a swift motion. ‘Seriously, what are you, a dog? Splattering germs and unclean water all around. Had I known the way you were going to welcome me, I would have put on a protective suit,’ he said gesturing towards his wet cloak. 

Shirō merely shrugged his shoulders, ‘Or perhaps you should avoid sneaking on students in your school’s lavatories!’ He was still keeping his distance from the demon, his eyes sending daggers towards him.

‘My, my what a lively temper you have. I just came to check up on you, since you seemed unwell this morning,’ the Principal said with a feline smile. ‘No hidden motives ☆ ,’ he added.

‘Tsk…,’ Shirō adjusted his glasses. ‘Why would you even bother…?’ he was still suspicious about the demon’s behaviour and his so blatant pretence of concern.

_How the hell does he manage to know **everything** going on in the school? Then again, he is the King of Time, second in Gehenna. _

‘I am the school Principal, my students’ wellbeing is my first concern’.

‘As if I could believe such an obvious lie,’ Shirō replied, ‘With what is going on in those labs your explanation sounds inconsistent’. He lay with his back against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, eyes glaring at the demon.   

As a response Mephisto’s sinister grin widened, ‘I do my best to take care of all my pieces so that they don’t become impaired. Besides,’ he added before Shirō’s anger could erupt in a flow of harsh words like a volcano, ‘You were locked inside a temporary dimension for a few hours yesterday. I cannot disregard the chance of that affecting you more than expected’. He covered the distance between them in long strides, stopping a few centimetres from the Exorcist. 

With Mephisto’s body hovering so closely over him, Shirō’s heartbeat quickened. A gloved hand went to caress his cheek, next its long index slid along his neck turning his skin into gooseflesh. Shirō’s breath was caught in his throat as he did not dare avert his gaze from Mephisto’s glowing eyes. The demon leaned in, sniffing his scent. His eyes narrowed as he intercepted something displeasing and he retreated slightly, his sight resting on Shirō’s blushing cheeks.

‘Oh my, I wasn’t aware you could become so self-conscious, Shirō-kun. Will you show me more of your bashful side☆? The Demon King teased with a playful smile, his emerald eyes locked into Shirō’s.

The teen snapped out of his trance at his words and unceremoniously shoved his hand away. ‘What exactly do you think you’re doing?’ he hissed through his teeth.

‘I am merely checking your heartbeat,’ came the innocent reply.

‘Why is that even a concern?’

‘Measuring the heartbeat and temperature of a human are parts of a basic medical evaluation. I really can’t see what is the problem wit-…oh dear,’ Mephisto covered his mouth with his hand in a perfect imitation of a Victorian lady. ‘Could it be that you misinterpreted that for something else?’ His smirk reached his high cheekbones, escaping the shielding hand, as his amused eyes only irked Shirō further.  

The teen’s ears were bright red when he shouted, ‘What the hell are you thinking I could have mistaken it for?!’ His breaths came out heavier than usual and Mephisto _laughed_ at his face.

‘AHAHAH…,’ he wiped a tear from his eyes, ‘It is too evident what you thought I was going to do to you, perhaps you were _hoping_ for it?’ He suggested with a lascivious look, which made Shirō’s skin crawl.

‘I was not! I’d sooner die rather than be kissed by- oh, _crap_!’ He cursed.

‘Fufufu, so you’re admitting your dirty thoughts’. The demon eyed him while using his index finger to incline Shirō’s chin upwards. ‘Why though, do you find me unappealing?’ he asked with his head bent to the side, fangs showing through his devilish smile.

‘Even if you had a pair of boobs and a nice butt, I would still find it hard to copulate with such an infamous beast as yourself,’ Shirō said pushing the older male away, disdain written all over his face.

Mephisto’s eyebrows skyrocketed, eyes widening as he took a step back. ‘I have to commend you for your choice of words, Fujimoto-kun’. He sounded a bit hurt and a bit pissed. ‘I myself wouldn’t have dared to jump from mentioning a kiss to such turpitude as the one your depraved mind seems to have pictured. This beast you speak of is far more refined than you could fathom’.

Shirō merely stared at him, red eyes glaring. Mephisto briefly closed his eyes and when he reopened them their light had dimmed. The demon assumed an inscrutable expression as he spoke, this time in a sober tone, ‘Returning to my reason for visiting you, I need to confirm that your body isn’t in immediate danger of decomposing from the inside, nor falling to pieces on the outside’. 

‘I am in perfect health, thank you,’ Shirō uttered under his breath, eyes flickering with annoyance. 

‘That broken nose says the opposite, did you get in a fight?’

‘It’s none on your business, demon,’ he spat at him. Shirō was done with Mephisto feigning concern. They glared at each other for a few seconds before the Principal relaxed his shoulders and opened his clawed fists.

‘Well I suppose I should at least ensure that you don’t go around littering my school with blood. Besides, why are you skipping your classes?’ he enquired with a severe look.

‘I was gonna go to the library,’ Shirō said vaguely. Mephisto nodded absentmindedly as his thoughts were suddenly caught by something else.

‘Very well, I shall leave you for now. Urgent matters require my attention,’ he stated.

‘Could I have my lighter back?’ Shirō asked before the principal could snap his fingers. Mephisto froze in his tracks, hand suspended in the air, eyes shining brightly.

‘No’. Shirō grimaced at the harsh reply. ‘What makes you think I would want for you to continue polluting the air I breathe?’

‘I could just get a new one, you know?’ the teen pointed out. ‘It’s just…’ he fiddled with his shirt, not sure if he wanted to give the demon that piece of information. ‘It’s just _hard_ to get another one since I am busy inside the Asylum most of the time’. It wasn’t an entire lie, but it wasn’t the truth either. Shirō waited, his breath suspended.

‘As I said, I do not approve of your smoking habit. You should just quit. Moreover, you’re wasting my time’. With a puff of pink smoke, Mephisto was gone.  

 

…

Mephisto appeared inside his office and immediately flung himself onto the chair behind his overcrowded desk. Grabbing a considerably large portion of kakīgori he stared at the paperwork waiting for him on the finely decorated table. He sunk a spoon deep inside the colourful ice and then placed a huge amount inside his mouth.

He had not shown it in front of the teen but the boy’s words had hurt his pride. Him, a beast! The King of Time was surely offended. He crunched on another piece of frozen water and sugar; in some sort of twisted way, he found the sound of cracking ice to be relaxing for his nerves. Had he not been a demon he would have suffered a brain freeze by now, considering the quick pace at which he was consuming the ice shave.

He looked at the first assignment on his list, a request to introduce new experiments on specimens at the labs. He took the piece of paper in his hand and turned it around, as if the answer to the question had been hidden on the back. Ah, responsibilities, within the Order and within his Family. As much as he enjoyed being the Architect behind grand designs, he too grew tired of having to painstakingly check little things over and over lest they turned into a disaster.

Reading through the subjects’ files, he evaluated the pros and cons of the new procedure and decided to give it a go. He could always stop it at any time if he felt it was too dangerous. Scratching his chin with the back of his pen, he put down his elegant signature on the paper and on the one after it, since it seemed a continuation of the same request.

Next was the plan for the annual end of the year meeting of the school body. He quickly looked at it, making small corrections about the food and the decorations to be put on, as well as the dress code, then placed the paper aside onto the finished pile. He wondered if someone was going to bring up Shirō’s matter or, more importantly, Section 13’s recent assault.

The third, fourth and sixteenth paper followed shortly after. But when he reached the seventeenth he halted. This one contained the results of Shirō Fujimoto’s medical examination he had asked for the day before. Carefully looking at each of the entries, he quickly assimilated all the information on the report. The cogwheels in his brain started spinning and he assumed a thoughtful expression. There was no doubt that the child was something special, with his superior abilities and undeniable charm he could have become a high-ranking exorcist. However, his utterly unnerving attitude towards those in power was not of much help.

_‘He shows signs of distress when approached by medical equipment and rejection towards physical contact’._

His green eyes scanned the words a few times, repeating them into his head. _He still hasn’t gotten over his previous treatment, it seems. It is of small comfort to know I am not the only one he is pushing away…_ he thought. _Although, I might be the sole victim of such fierce hate._ _Still, this would not be as much fun if the wild cub had already been domesticated._ Recalling the flustered look on Shirō’s face made the demon happily smiled like a child, eyes glittering as his mind pictured the pink hue on his cheeks. Oh, how much he loved teasing the boy.

There was another thought, however, which disturbed his lively mood. When he had come close to Shirō’s head, he had clearly smelled the scent of another human male, probably the one who had broken his nose. He knew that teenagers tended to have hormonal spikes and engage in fights at all times, but he couldn't stop himself  from cringing as he thought about the possible damage Shirō's body could've taken since the boy was already injured.  
It was not because of some unforeseen affection the demon was developing towards the little human, but more likely annoyance at someone who had dared to harm one of his favourite toys, he told himself.  
Why was Shirō so special? Simply put Mephisto had a good nose for sniffing people with great potential out. 

As the Demon King of Time, he was aware of all things going on in his territory and he had soon noticed the sheer devotion that particular student put into his studies. He had been amused when he had finally unveiled the reason behind Shirō's commendable efforts: to seek revenge on a Demon King. For a human that was an act as foolish as attempting to fly.

He had secretly observed the boy progress in his research, casually leaving hints here and there without him noticing. And Shirō had paid back his investment in full. Even though he officially held no qualification, his skills were remarkable for his age. Other students, in particular Shirō’s teammates were also proficient Exorcists, but they lacked the drive which Shirō had. Moreover, he was the only one who had showed him such genuine hostility and with a justified basis. Owning a dog who wanted to bite his master? He needed a challenge like that every now and then. 

Mephisto contemplated his handiwork laying on top of his desk. While he was deeply in thoughts, his dextrous fingers had modelled a paper version of Shirō. He observed the figurine from different angles before putting it to the side of his desk and proceeding to look at the next and last paper.

It was a folded letter and he soon recognised the stylised calligraphy and the crimson red seal. His lips curled up in a smirk at the thought of how old fashioned some of his colleagues could be. Just as he was going to open it, a loud knock was heard coming from his door. Unsurprised that someone had decided to pay him a visit, probably a teacher coming to pester him about his school’s duties, he quickly hid the letter into a hyper-dimensional drawer and said, ‘Come in’.

The doors opened revealing a figure dressed up in Exorcist clothes. ‘Sir,’ he said bowing in front of Mephisto, who prompted him to speak as he was busy. ‘There has been an increase in attacks by Ghoul type demons in Shinjuku recently. So many that the squad stationed there has raised the danger level to red and requested for reinforcements from the central forces’.

‘Mm…send them the support they asked for then’.

‘Sir, with all due respect, we are currently facing a crisis. The recent invasion in our labs cost us a number of victims and we were already short on personnel. Most of our reaming men are already deployed in the Osaka crisis right now. If you could…’

‘No can do,’ Mephisto interrupted him swinging his index from side to side in a refusal sign, ‘I am busy with more important matters right now. If you really are out of people, then recruit some of the newly graduated Exorcists’.

‘But, Sir, those are the special units we are experimenting on…’

‘And what is a more appropriate way to test them than seeing them in real fights? I am sure they can handle a little Zombie Apocalypse like this,’ he said nonchalantly.

‘I understand,’ the man said in a rigid tone. ‘I shall handpick the best novices to form a squad to send’.

‘It is settled then, anything else you wanted from me?’ he jovially asked.

‘No, Sir’.

‘Then you might leave,’ he dismissed him.

The man bowed again and as he turned to leave he noticed Shirō’s statuette. Pursing his lips together, he hesitated but then just exited the room without a word. His actions, however, did not go unnoticed by the demon, whose eyes had narrowed upon sensing the man’s negative feelings.

Finally alone, Mephisto took the letter out and breaking the mark on it he flattened the fragile sheet. The message was short and concise, he did not need to keep it and in the blink of an eye, the paper was gone. Getting up, he changed his attire to a more formal one and extracted one of his keys from his pocket; he inserted it into his office’s front door and then jumped through the space-bending portal.    


	8. Of blood and Stones

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: Mentions to blood and torture.

As soon as he had trespassed the boundary of space and time, Mephisto set his foot into a cold land. In the dim light of the moon, snowy mountains hailed at him from the background and he stepped through the thick forest of oaks spreading in front of him. The air was colder than Japan’s and a light breeze blew through the leaves causing a soft rustling noise. Deer, rabbits and other small fauna moved away from his path as he advanced deeper into the woods. It had been a long time since he had last visited Europe. Despite sporting a wide range of plants of all sizes, the forest he was currently in could not compare to his beloved Schwarzwald, from where myths and legends of old times had left him more than a pleasant memory.

As he reached an area devoid of trees, he looked around, green eyes scanning the open space. There were traces of snow and ice here and there on the most shadowy parts of the ground. Smelling the scent of a human come nearer, his body tensed, his eyes darkened and his fangs became sharper. A small man clad in a pure white coat stood in front of him with a lantern. An old-fashioned moustache adorned his upper lip and, on his right eye, he wore a monocle, whose chain disappeared inside the internal pocket of his velvet jacket. His scarce hair was greying and he appeared to be in his forties.

Removing his top hat with a smile, Mephisto crossed his legs in an imitation of a ballet pose and slightly bent his chest forward. Outstretching both his arms towards his left side he said, ‘Guten Abend’.

The Exorcist in front of him narrowed his eyes and gave him an annoyed look stiffening his back. ‘Mă bucur să te revăd,’ he said in a slightly pissed tone. He had not appreciated the German greeting, for he did not like such language.

‘No need to be so stingy,’ Mephisto replied putting his hat back on and straightening his pose. ‘It’s quite cold in here, even though it is already summer,’ he commented pinching his nose to contain a sneeze.

‘It is central Europe’s summer,’ the old man simply stated. ‘Please, if you would like to follow me. My staff is waiting for us at my modest mansion’. He turned around to walk along a hidden path and the demon followed him, boots cracking on the ground.

‘I hope you are in good health?’ Mephisto asked while they walked. He was watching the human very carefully, his eyes glittering. 

‘I am very well, thank you’. The man glanced at him. ‘How is your vessel instead?’

The Demon King sighed, ‘It’s holding on, I suppose’.

The Exorcist nodded in assent and did not speak more while they were in the outside. Even though this was a remote forest, it would have been too dangerous to carelessly speak about more private matters, which ought to be discussed behind closed doors. The sun had begun to rise when they finally approached a Renaissance-gothic castle.

Ornate pinnacles decorated the parapets of tall towers reaching towards the sky and the demon’s sharp eyes could spot cannons in perfect conditions on the bastions. The flying buttresses on the sides emphasized the building’s slender figure while the crimson colour of the outside gave the roofs a refulgent look as dawn broke before their eyes. A moat surrounded the castle and the two travellers had to cross a bridge to access the fortress. Once inside, they walked across an empty courtyard before finally entering the main building.

A butler welcomed them as they crossed the door and he immediately offered to take Sir Pheles’ cloak and hat.  Mephisto darted an enquiring look at the Exorcist who in turn said, ‘Please, make yourself comfortable. Not too long from now, we shall discuss business over breakfast’.

‘Or dinner in my time,’ the Demon King replied with a grin.

The old man bent his head to the side and did not comment that statement. Following a manservant they slowly moved through a long corridor whose sides where delimited by marble columns, which joined into a rib vault above their heads. Curtains and various flags could be seen hanging from the girders placed in between the unrefined capitals.  
Walking through a pair of rich doors, they entered a vast room embellished with elaborate wall illustrations, which depicted battles of the past. Reminiscing old glories, the King of Time admired the crude representations of a particularly cruel fight before the fresco on the ceiling caught his attention. A horned being appeared in the bottom right corner, his left leg had been drawn in the act of stepping forward while both his arms where swung behind as if trying to keep something way from him. At the other end of the paining, a younger man surrounded by pure white light stood with his arm extended towards the other.

‘That painting always manages to steal your eyes,’ Nikolai noticed in a quiet tone.

‘Indeed, it is by far the most amusing artwork in the room,’ Mephisto replied. ‘It offers to different interpretations depending on the observer’. He cleared his throat. ‘Is that God casting a fallen Angel out of heaven? Or is it an Angel on the left offering forgiveness to the Demon on the right? Is it righteous punishment or supreme mercy?’ he hummed, eye glittering.  

‘And what do you see?’ the other asked, an eyebrow risen in a questioning manner.

‘That, I will leave to your fervid human imagination,’ the demon replied with a wide smile, which showed his sharp white fangs.  

‘Of course. I would not have expected a better reply from you’.

‘Indeed, you have been dealing with demons’ nobility for quite a while now. It is only natural that you got accustomed to us,’ Mephisto said, fingers tracing the edge of a minutely carved wooden frame.

The sound of a man coughing interrupted their brief conversation. A tall manservant wearing a black outfit bowed down and solemnly announced, ‘Scuzați-ma. Micul dejun ește servit, vă rog să luați in sala de mese’.

The dining hall was no less spectacular than the rest of the mansion. A high table stood in the middle of the room and, at first glance, Mephisto could count more than fifty seats around it. _It would be the perfect setting to play Reise nach Jerusalem,_ the Demon King thought with a smirk. Red velvet graciously draped from the edges of the table, hovering just above the floor.

He approached his designated seat at one end of the table and stood behind the chair waiting for Nikolai to give him the signal. A majestic chandelier lit the room from above their heads; the intricate design into which the iron supporting the candles had been moulded into caught the demon’s attention. After his long stay in Assiah, he could appreciate all sorts of arts and often the sight of such masterpieces brought memories back. He spaced out as the Exorcist offered his blessing in the name of God and then automatically sat when the other did.  

Shiny cutlery surrounded a ceramic plate: two forks to the left of the plate, two knives followed by the spoon on the right and an additional small fork and a teaspoon at the top. A tiny plate containing a slice of plain bread was placed to the left of the furthermost fork and, not too far away on the table, there was also a serving of soft butter next to a varied choice of homemade jams in glass containers. Three different calices standing in the top right corner completed the nice picture.

   Silent servants who did not dare look the demon in the eye served the food quickly and smoothly. Fresh sliced vegetables soon joined the table as well as different-sized crovigi. To top it all, at the end of the meal a warm cup of Turkish-style coffee accompanied by a selection of cheeses and smoked sausages was served.

 

Taking hold of the bread, Mephisto skilfully spread butter and then added blueberry jam on it. Sweet food was his favourite, but he did not despise delving into the pleasures of European salty cured meat every now and then. Therefore, he added quite a few slices of ham and salami to his plate. ‘The taste of this salami is absolutely brilliant, Nikolai. I have to admit I cannot find something like this in Japan’.

‘It delights me to hear such praising words. Please help yourself to the food,’ the old man replied with a smile.

‘With pleasure’. The demon sunk his fangs deep into the meat, savouring the flavour of dried blood and salty flesh. Exchanging pleasantries over a meal before addressing the actual reason of the meeting was the usual code of conduct and Mephisto patiently waited for the Master of the Castle to introduce the topic.

When, after an hour of inconsequential conversation the man did not seem more prone to bring up the subject, Mephisto let a casual hint drop. ‘I am a busy man after all. I run a school for Exorcists and manage an orphanage, not to mention that as the Head of the Japanese Branch of the True Cross Order I oversee the development of research into demons’. 

They had been discussing about places to visit in Europe and the King of Time had lamented his lack of _time_ to go on a trip to his beloved Germany. ‘Indeed, I am well aware of that’. Nikolai rose from his seat. ‘If you would apologise an old man for falling prey to his own superstitions, I sent you a letter earlier this week because there are some important matters I wish to discuss with you’. He stood next to a door, arm outstretched indicating the other to walk into a side room.

Narrowing his eyes, the Demon King followed the human inside a much smaller studio which was far from indiscrete eyes. Bookshelves which smelled of antiquity covered the walls and at the centre of the room there was a small wooden tea table with a couple of chairs. Mephisto comfortably helped himself into a chair, without waiting for the other to instruct him to do so and hence gaining a severe look from the old man. Nevertheless, Nikolai sat in front of him and adjusting his monocle started, ‘As you are well aware, I am one of the most fervent supporter of the Elixir research’.  

‘Indeed, your contributions have been remarkable during the past few years,’ the demon agreed crossing his legs. ‘One could wonder if all that effort is out of compassion’.

‘Assiah is my home and love it; I wish to protect it to the best of my abilities. I do not feel particularly compassionate towards you, concerning your fate as Demon Kings if that is what you are implying’.

‘Such generosity, investing all your resources for the sake of Assiah’ the demon smirked. ‘I think we both know your own personal gains weren’t negligible, right Vlad?’

‘I would prefer if you referred to me as “Nikolai” in this time and age. That part of me you speak of has died long ago,’ came the dry reply.

‘I wonder…what do your “special guests” say about you?’ he asked bending his head to the side. 

Nikolai lips curled up in a devious smirk so unlike his usual professional expression, ‘They absolutely _love_ my attentions’.

‘I see’. Green eyes glowed in the dim light of the room and the demon licked his lips. ‘Well then, what is this urgent matter you wanted to discuss with me? As I said already I am busy and need to return to Japan as soon as possible’.

‘The research is proceeding quite well. However, I need more samples and the Grigori have been stingy recently. Moreover…’ he paused and Mephisto rose an eyebrow urging him to continue. ‘Moreover, there has been an attack at one of the facilities the other week’.

‘Oh’. The demon leaned back onto his chair relaxing his stiffened shoulders. ‘Section thirteen was under fire as well,’ he shared with him without a second thought.

‘Do you mean…? It’s impossible someone would have taken notice of it, we have been careful. Barriers have been set up all around and our workers...’

‘You should not underestimate the power of human’s hatred,’ the demon said folding his hands. ‘Regardless, I have reported the attack on _my school_ to the Vatican. There were…casualties’.

‘Of course’. Nikolai clenched his fists, stiffening his back. He did not appear pleased about the news Mephisto had just given him. Due to his position in the order, the Exorcist needed secrecy more than anyone did and this whole story could lead to his demise if he did not play carefully.

‘If I may suggest, you should do the same and, reinforce your security. As for the spare parts,’ Mephisto added, ‘It is the Grigori decision to supply you with that, I can only pressure them so much into helping us with this research. I am afraid there is little I can do at this stage’.

‘I see. I will tighten the security then. One of the assaulters was caught alive and his interrogation is currently underway. We are trying to find out whether they acted alone or if there was someone else pulling the strings behind’.  

‘I would be interested in questioning him in person, but I am sure you are doing a great job already,’ the demon grinned.

‘I could let you have a look at him, later’. The Exorcist leaned forwards, placing his hands onto his knees. ‘There is one more thing I would like to discuss’.

Mephisto’s eyes glowed brighter as the atmosphere in the room changed. ‘A child of mine lost his way home and ended up in your territory. I would be grateful if you could help him come back to me’. Nikolai tone was sombre, just like one of a father mourning his son. ‘He goes by the name of Victor and he is still very young and inexperienced so it is plausible he would fall to some tricks’.

‘Asking me to clean up after your mistakes. How much would you be willing to pay?’ Samael said showing his fangs.

Nikolai’s eyes darkened. ‘Any reasonable price,’ he said.

‘There is something in your basement that I would be willing to acquire with my services,’ the King of Time replied, eyes shining below his eyelids.

Whether he had been surprised, or annoyed, by the request, the Exorcist did not show any expression on his face. However, the demon’s nose could smell his vexation. ‘Very well,’ he said with a plain business tone as if finalizing an agreement on next Christmas’ sales. ‘It seems fitting that you’d ask for that, given your current status. I shall show you the prisoner now, if you are still interested in him’. He stood up waiting for the Demon King to make a move.

‘Of course, I wouldn’t want to miss the chance of having a one-on-one talk with him. It might prove useful to you too,’ the demon replied getting up as well. Silently, Nikolai guided him down to the underground rooms where cells and torture rooms were located.

 

Turning a rusty key into a lock which looked older than the castle itself, the Exorcist opened a door and entered followed by the demon. Immediately, the stench impregnating the air made Mephisto’s nose twitch with displeasure. Blood and other bodily fluids flowed freely onto the ground and in the little light given off by the candles, his demonic eyes could clearly discern the contours of the martyrized body of the captive.

The man groaned as he heard the two enter the room. Firelight flickered against the walls as a small wind blew through the door before it was securely locked behind the newcomers. Samael looked around, observing the furniture. It was as if they had just stepped into a Spanish’s Inquisition Torture chamber. There were chains hanging from the ceiling, probably used to perform suspension on victims, and chains onto the floor to restrain the occasional visitors. A long table on the left side sported all sort of small iron instruments from sharp rods to scissors, scalpels, hammers, nails, tweezers and even a pear of anguish.

Several larger instruments were scattered around the room. There was a thin cage hanging from the ceiling, a spike-covered chair in a corner and a rack not too far from it. To add more to the picture, a blood covered Spanish Donkey occupied part of the room on the right and a few feet behind it there was a Judas’ Craddle.

‘Came to see me bleed some more, Count Dracula?’ the man asked in his mother tongue with a disdainful look. He was with his knees on the floor, hands tightly tied up behind his back, which in turn lay against a wooden pillar. Dried blood covered his temple, cheeks and arms. His ragged clothes barely offered any protection against the cold temperature of the room.

‘I am just showing a friend around. He asked to meet you in person’. The unnamed prisoner’s eyes moved to the look at Demon King and he clicked his tongue in disgust.

Not exactly pleased by the reaction, Samael narrowed his eyes. Slowly, he walked towards the man, his strong demonic aura filling the air. The once Exorcist panicked, his cocky expression from before disappeared to make place for a fearful one. ‘Are so greedy that you would even sell your own kind to the enemy, Eminescu?’ His eyes darted between the demon and the old man standing behind him.

A smile appeared on Samael’s lips and his eyes glowed brightly, he stopped walking standing not too far away from the prisoner. The demon stared straight into the man’ eyes and a loud cry followed by colourful insults and curses echoed into the small room. Although there were no signs of physical damage, the man on the floor appeared to be in great pain and his distorted face served as proof of that torment.

Finally, the cries ceased and Samael leaned forward placing a finger under the prisoner’s chin as he forced the human to look at him. As a response, the man’s shoulders stiffened and he averted his gaze in order to avoid eye contact with the demon. ‘A demon’s methods are a bit different from those of humans. If that wasn’t enough to loosen your tongue,’ Samael added with an evil smile, ‘I can always give you another taste’.

‘Noo! Please, don’t…!’ The man started trembling on the floor and Samael let go of him. Turning towards Nikolai he said, ‘You don’t need to thank me’. 

‘What exactly did you do to him?’ the Exorcist asked kneading his short beard between his fingers.

‘A professional performer never discloses his tricks. However, as a bonus for your hospitality, I will let you know that I just played a bit with his mind’.

The old man nodded thoughtfully and then turned around to call a couple of armed men. ‘Take care of him,’ he said gesturing towards the prisoner who seemed too broken to oppose any resistance now. ‘He should be more willing to speak now’.

‘Aren’t you going to listen to what this man has to say, Nikolai?’

‘No need to bother myself with that, I will escort you to the Crypt then. If you would like to follow me’.

They moved through narrow corridors and dark rooms. Sensing a change in the dimensional fabric of the space around them, Samael threw Nikolai an enquiring look, which the old Exorcist ignored. Eventually, they stopped in front of a small arch, which led into an even narrower room. The King of Time had to bow his head, careful not to hit the ceiling, in order to enter. A faint red light glowed inside the Crypt and sharp crystal fragments of the colour of blood were suspended in the air above a cylindrical stone.

Samael’s hand reached forward, eyes captivated by the rubies. He was so close to touching them when Nikolai coughed catching his attention. Slowly, the demon turned towards him, the smell of death filling the air. ‘I will be glad to give these to you once you’ve satisfied your end of our contract’.

‘Then shall we _sign_ this pact?’ Samael smiled at him.

‘Absolutely’. Nikolai stepped forward and offered him his hand, palm facing down.

‘Very well...’ the demon said licking his lips. While dark lines appeared on the back of Nikolai’s hand, his mind was already coming up with a plan to obtain what he wanted in the shortest time possible. ‘This will be a temporary agreement between you and me. Thus, the mark will be gone once the contract his fulfilled. Nobody will know anything of this, understood?’

‘You have my word’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not know any Roumanian so I asked my friend to translate the sentences I used in the story for me. 
> 
> Mă bucur să te revăd= “Pleasure to see you again”  
> Scuzați-ma. Micul dejun ește servit, vă rog să luați in sala de mese= “Pardon me. Breakfast is ready, please make your way to the dining hall”  
> Crovigi= sort of pretzel-like food. 
> 
> Also, Nikolai Eminescu is Drac Dragulescu. He knows Mephisto is in the woods because of barriers. It’s around six in the morning when he arrives.


End file.
